the response

Well, I've been reading Paladeus works, they're awesome by the way, and although I'm a hardcore H/Hr shipper, I'm starting to see the goodness that it H/Hr/Luna.

But, I digress.

This, my friends, was inspired by an oneshot Paladeus wrote in FF.net. It's part of an oneshot/random ideas sort of collection. The name of the fic it's called “Into the rabbit's Hole”, and it's chapter 7.

So, you MUST read that before reading this, or else there are going to be parts that won't make sense. Here's the link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5121007/7/

Also, before you say something, I asked Paladeus for permission, he said yes.

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“the response”

(sequel to “minerva's advice” // After a little chat with Professor McGonagall, Hermione is left questioning her current behaviour and wondering what she should do next. But she's a smart girl, she'll figure it out.)

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Hermione stood outside McGonagall's classroom for a few seconds, still trying to decide if she imagined or not what just happened. The Professor's parting words were still ringing in her head.

“I hope to see you walking funny tomorrow, Miss Granger!”*

The. Bloody. Hell?

The girls of Hogwarts wanted to shag Harry but did nothing because of their fear of her? Boys fancying her but doing nothing for fear of Harry? The whole school believing her and Harry would end up together or were already dating? The twins holding a wager…?

It can't be. Harry and I… It just can't be.

“I need some air…”

But, of course, she knew it wouldn't be possible right now, for she had only minutes before she had to go to the dungeons for her last class of the day. Potions. Without really noticing, her feet started to take her there on their own, and soon, she was sitting in her usual place.

Harry arrived just seconds before Slughorn.

“Go find Potter and show him what he means to you.”*

Professor McGonagall's voice echoed in her head just as her eyes locked with Harry's.

He was pulling his potion's book (the Prince's book) out of his bag when their eyes met, and for a moment he gave her a defiant glare, as if daring her to call him on it. She didn't and stared at him instead, mulling over McGonagall's words; her face was a carefully constructed mask, devoid of emotion.

Was she really projecting the jealousy she felt for Ginny into that book? Was she really jealous of Ginny, of the attention Harry was giving her? She didn't know. No, well, she did know, just—

Harry didn't seem to be able to hold her gaze any longer, and looked away, focusing instead in Slughorn. But before his eyes left hers, Hermione caught, very clearly, the flash of hurt. And it tore right through her.

—yeah, darn it, she was jealous. And not only that, now she felt guilty for acting like a right bitch towards her best friend.

I'll make it up to you, Harry. I will.

This, of course, meant she'd already made her choice. Not surprising, it'd always been her only choice.

The class went by relatively fast. Every time Harry consulted his Potion's book, her eyes locked on him. But other than the slight, almost imperceptible flinch, he did not seem to acknowledge her. At last, the class came to an end. Slughorn praised her work, but he fawned all over Harry's. And while before she would have felt angry, now… she actually felt proud, if a little miffed.

Hermione felt determinate to fix her problems with Harry and, well, maybe give a new meaning to their relationship. She decided to follow McGonagall's advice, though, she didn't think it would be a good idea to jump to… the walking funny part just yet.

Maybe… maybe later.

Steeling her resolve, Hermione waited outside for Harry. He was the last one to leave the dungeons, which suited her fine, as she would have less witnessed to what she planned to do. She couldn't get in trouble, not really, McGonagall had given her blessings. So as long as no one caught them—

“Hermione?”

She was slightly startled out of her musing, cursing internally at being so distracted that she failed to see his approach. She gave him a nervous smile. “Can we talk, please?”

Harry was going to refuse, she could see it in his eyes, but in the end he simply nodded and motioned for her to lead the way. She let of a relieved sigh. This was his way of showing he wanted to fix things too, she was sure. Slowly, Hermione led him into an unoccupied part of the castle, a part favoured for those students who wanted to have a quick snog before bedtime (and those who wanted more, to her chagrin), even if they never made it out of here before bedtime.

A quick glance in Harry's direction told her he had recognized the place (she did not want to think of how he knew about it), so to prevent any questions, she grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him inside the nearest broom closet, thanking the Gods for it to be empty.

“Wha—Hermione!”

Before he could start asking for explanation (and before she could lose her courage), Hermione dropped her bag and captured his lips in a passionate kiss (or as passionate as her inexperienced self could muster). His bag fell to the floor, but other than that, he did nothing. She tried not to let that discourage her, and instead focused on the feeling of his lips against hers, unresponsive for now but—but she hoped…

Oh.

He was kissing her back.

~

Harry was one thoroughly confused bloke.

He remembered when his life used to be… relatively simple. Hermione was his best friend and all was good in the world (sort of). Now… he honestly had no freaking idea what to think. One moment Hermione was the same girl he'd known for over five years, the next she hated his guts because he got better grades in Potion (she was jealous of a bloody book? What the hell? He offered to let her use it and she refused!).

Now? Now she dragged his arse into the nearest empty broom closet and snogged the daylights out of him.

And more than that.

He could still remember clearly the first time she, for lack of a better word, jumped him.

After he'd started to respond (with as much passion as he could muster, though she still seemed to get the upper hand in the end), Hermione had pulled back, gasping for air (and it was alright, he'd needed the oxygen too). They had been silent for a few seconds, but then she'd gotten this odd, wicked glint in her eyes, and a timid smile later, she'd dropped to her knees. (He was still pretty sure he imagined what happened next, though the evidence said otherwise.) The image of Hermione on her knees and—Gods, it was pretty much burned into his head. But that was nothing compared to the feel of her mouth, and the little moan that escaped her and—bloody freaking hell.

That was two week ago, and while she hadn't gone down on him again, her hands were as skilled as her mouth had felt (but, hey, he was a boy, blowjobs were always better). And although he wanted to reciprocate (he really, really did), Hermione bolted after every encounter, running as if the very hounds of hell were chasing her.

The good side of this—well, it was all good, so he better say the great side of it (but wasn't it all great as well?), was that they were getting along just fine, like old times. Their friendship was back to how it used to be—only not, because he sure as hell didn't think of Hermione as a girl with whom he could do… stuff before now.

He liked that stuff.

Of course, Harry knew there must be more to what they did (what she did) than a convenient snog. Hermione was not that kind of girl; hell, he wasn't that kind of bloke. That's why he was planning to ask her to be his… his girlfriend today. Well, perhaps, maybe—no, definitely. He was definitely doing it today.

But first I have to stop her from running away after… will she even…?

But first, he had to find her.

Looking around the common room, he saw Ginny sitting alone by the fire and hurried over her. As soon as she saw him, the petite redhead smiled beautifully at him, and while two weeks ago he would have gone gaga over that, now he was a man on a mission.

And that mission was Hermione Granger.

“Hey, Ginny.”

“Hi, Harry!”

“Hi. Hey, listen, do you know if Hermione is up in the girls' dorm?”

Ginny blinked a few moments, looking perplexed, but then shook her head. “No. She went to the Library about half an hour ago.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Without paying much attention to the youngest Weasley, Harry turned around and sprinted up the stairs to his dorm in search of the Marauder's Map; he already had his Invisibility Cloak. Once he had it, Harry activated it and, true enough, the dot labelled Hermione J. Granger was stationary in the Library. He raced down the stairs and out the portrait hole in only a few seconds. He hurried towards the library, safe under his Cloak because a Professor took away his map once, he wasn't going to let it happen again.

Checking every few moments to see if Hermione remained where he last saw her, he walked briskly through the halls, until finally, he reached the Library. Madam Pince gave him a reproachful glare when he stumbled against a chair as he passed by her desk. With a sheepish grin, he ventured further into the Library.

Harry moved expertly between the bookshelves, until he found Hermione in a secluded part of the Library surrounded by books. Taking a deep breath, he approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her. But Hermione looked up suddenly, jumping a little, so, obviously, he didn't succeed in being sneaky.

“Harry!”

“Hullo…”

“Wha—what are you doing here?”

She looked too nervous for it to be only because of being startled. In fact, the way she seemed to be gathering her things and stuffing them in her bag told Harry that she was getting ready to bolt. Again.

Making good use of his reflexes, Harry closed the distance between them and grabbed Hermione around the waist, effectively stopping any attempt of fleeing (unless she kneed him in the groin, now that would definitely make him let her go).

“Hermione, wait, don't run, I… I wanted to say…”

Uh, well, he hadn't expected this part to be so hard.

Hermione blushing scarlet and averting her gaze certainly wasn't helping him any either.

“Look, I—uh. You, that is—dammit!” Taking a deep breath, Harry steeled his resolve and looked her right in the eyes. “I want to return the favour.”

She blinked a few times, her head tilting to the side in confusion as her blush receded. “What favour?”

“Oh, God. That came out wrong!”

“Are you alright, Harry?”

Now it was his turn to blush. Oh, this was so not how he had envisioned this talk. “Look, Hermione, about these past two weeks—”

“Oh, God,” she said, cutting his sentence short. “God, Harry. I'm sorry! I—I don't know what came over me! Really!”

“Wait, wha—Hermione!”

Hermione broke free of his hold and moved around the table until it was separating them. “I'm really, really sorry! Oh, what must you think of me now?”

Because he didn't know how to handle a crying girls (and Harry could see Hermione was only seconds away from breaking down), he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. And, as it was usually the norm, it was the truth.

“I think you're bloody brilliant.”

Now that made her pause. “What?”

“It's true! I think you're brilliant, Hermione,” said Harry, earnestly.

Hermione chewed her lower lip; she looked so cute like that, Harry had to grip the edge of the table to not leap across the furniture and devour her with kisses.

“You don't think any less of me for… for what I've been doing? You don't think I'm a harlot?”

He shook his head forcefully, trying to convey the sincerity of his actions with his eyes. And it was true. He'd never think any less of Hermione for what she did, he didn't think he could. Hermione was always going to be this brilliant, beautiful girl that chose to stay next to him regardless of all the danger he'd brought into her life.

“I… Look, Hermione, I would never think any less of you because—because of that, or anything really. Even if you were doing it with… some other bloke, I—” Here, Harry had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat at such thought. It never occurred to him that Hermione could do stuff with some other bloke, just—no. It was Hermione; she was his best friend, his… his. “I would still think you're brilliant, and…”

“I wouldn't think of doing that with anyone else, Harry… just you.”

No one would ever be able to blame him for what he did later. Honestly, how could anyone expect him (expect any bloke, really) to hear those words and do nothing? It was impossible. So, yeah, Harry blinked once and then he almost seemed to materialize in front of Hermione out of thin air.

With one hand, he grabbed the back of her neck and crushed his lips to hers; the other went around her waist to pull her flush against him. And this kiss, he dominated it from the start.

“I, uh… Harry?”

“I want to make you feel good,” he whispered in a husky tone. “As good as you've made me feel.”

Hermione whimpered softly, her body shaking slightly in what he hoped was anticipation, and she nodded.

“Okay, then. Let's just grab your things and we'll go—”

“No.”

“No?”

Oh, God, was she having seconds thoughts already? He hadn't done anything yet!

“Here,” she said, in a tone that was almost seductive. She grabbed his hands and pulled until she was sort of trapped against a bookshelf. “Make me feel good, Harry. Right here.”

His mouth fell open, Harry was speechless and—really? Who would have guessed Hermione to be so… naughty? He tried to wrap his head around her request, but the way she was biting her lower lip made his squirm, in a good way. A very good way.

“Are you…?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, then.”

Closing the distance between them, Harry brushed their lips in a soft kiss before pressing harder and engaging her into a battle of wills. He plunged his tongue into her awaiting mouth at the same time his hands took hold of her delightful breasts. But Hermione didn't seem to be in the mood to go slow, she grabbed his left hand and pushed it down, past her navel and all the barrier of clothing, and right under her skirt, guiding it to where she wanted it.

She hissed in pleasure when his fingers touched her through her knickers and Harry smirked into her lips at feeling her so wet already.

“Is… is this for me?” He was afraid to talk loudly, lest he broke the enchanting moment, so his question was barely audible.

Hermione heard him anyway. “Yes, for you. Because of you. Always.”

This gave him the courage he needed to slid his hand under her knickers and touch her most intimate place. Harry felt a nubbin gracing the palm of his hand as his fingers slipped between her folds, and curiously, he retracted his hand a little and pressed down on it.

Hermione seemed to come undone on the spot. “Oh—Harry.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned all her weight on him, her body trembling too much to stand on her own. He didn't know what happened, but as she seemed to enjoy what he did, he repeated his actions. Using his fore and middle fingers, he started to rub the nubbin in lazy circles, pressing harder and harder as the seconds went by and Hermione moaned louder and louder with each rub. He pinched it to see if he got a reaction and was rewarded beautifully.

Hermione gasped, arched her back as much as she could while staying pressed tightly against him, and let out a soft, drawn out moan right into his ear. It made the little hairs on his neck stand on end as shiver of pleasure ran down his spine.

“That was… wow.”

“Mmhmm.”

Harry walked them backwards as best as he could, he stopped when he bumped into the table and leaned on it. Hermione didn't seem to be able to move, or simply didn't want to, either way, he didn't care. She felt heavenly, pressed like this to him; his left hand was still firmly placed on her pulsating pussy and that, too, felt heavenly, but… there was still something he wanted to try.

“Hermione?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you… would you bend over the table?”

Slowly, she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him oddly. “Bend over?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling his hand out of her knickers and already missing the heat of her sex. “There's something else I want to try.”

This prompted Hermione to look at him, then at the table, and repeat the process several times, growing more nervous with each look. “I… Harry, I don't think I feel ready for that just yet.”

Harry blinked at her in confusion, until the meaning of her words registered in his head. “Oh—oh! No! I mean, no, I'm not talking about that—not that don't want to, I do, very much, but only when you're ready, I… I won't rush you.”

It was enough to appease her, so Hermione smiled at him and nodded her consent. Giving him a quick peck on the lips, she turned and bent over the massive table. Harry knelt behind her and lifted her robes and skirt up over her bum. His cock twitched at the sight of her soaked knickers, but other than adjusting himself to relieve some pressure, Harry did nothing about his arousal. This was Hermione's turn to feel good; he already had his turn, two weeks of it in fact. Tentatively, he grasped the edges of her cotton knickers and lowered them to her thighs.

After that, he could only stare as all his blood rushed south.

“Harry?”

“Ye—yeah?”

“Are you alright? You went too quiet, suddenly, and… uh.”

“I'm fine. Great. I'm great, it's just—Hermione, you're so… wow.”

“Thank you?”

“I… I'm actually trying to think of how to do this.”

“Oh, well. I… I can't exactly give you hints there. Er, follow your instincts?”

Harry blinked, and decided to use his finger while he figured it out. It seemed to work for Hermione started to make those wondrous noises again. And after a while it just sort of came to him. It all seemed so simple.

He smirked as his eyes fixed on that nubbin that just screamed for his attention. “Yeah, I'll just follow my instincts.”

~

Minerva was one smug witch. Well, sort of.

The rumour mill of Hogwarts was quick to let her know that Hermione had acted on her advice. She was no longer at odds with Harry; in fact, their friendship seemed to be better than ever. Hermione no longer acted irrational over the Potion's book, Harry acted more rationally in this crusade against Mr Malfoy (at least, he no longer stated his suspicious out loud) and didn't moon over Miss Weasley like he used to. Not only that, but now that Mr Weasley was in a relationship with Miss Brown, the two remaining of the Trio were growing closer.

Of course, Minerva was never one to believe rumours, so she opted for watching them herself when she could. And for what she could see, the rumours were true, they did look closer than before, more happy as well, although she did detect something else she couldn't quite pinpoint.

So, yes, she felt pretty smug knowing that Hermione acted on her advice. But she so had wanted the girl to take it to heart. She was not kidding when she told her she hoped to see her walking funny. So far, nothing; Hermione walked normally, as always.

But she still needed to hear the good news from her favourite student, hence why she sent an elf to fetch her.

Minerva decided to grade some exams while she waited. She must have been very focused on it, because she didn't notice Hermione until she cleared her throat. Minerva looked up to find her at the door.

“You called me, Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, Miss Granger, please have a sit while a finish here.”

Hermione nodded and Minerva looked down to the parchments on her desk. Quickly, she finished grading the exams, lamenting the quality of the current students (with a few remarkable exceptions). Once the exams were safely in the top drawer, she turned to look at Hermione.

The girl was sitting straight on the chair across from her, her expression serious as she awaited her to talk. Minerva had to chuckle internally at this site. “Now, Miss Granger—Hermione, this has nothing to do with school, so you may relax.”

That seemed to do the trick, but not completely. Hermione was, after all, keen on always following the rules (unless, of course, the rules presented a problem for one Harry Potter, then she had no problem breaking them at her will). “Is this another personal lecture, Professor? Because I took your advice, Harry and I are back to being best friends.”

Had her face not turned pink when she mentioned Harry, Minerva would have believed her, but there was obviously more to it than that. “Only friends?”

And, there, the sign she was looking for.

Hermione's face turned bright red as she averted her eyes. “I, uh, well…”

“Hermione, I don't mean to pry. You don't need to tell me anything,” said Minerva, hoping to avoid the stuttering that was sure to follow. No matter how much she tried to avoid it, Hermione was just like any other girl when it came to boys. “In fact, I asked you to come here because I thought you decided to remain as friend and simply wanted to know why, as you obviously love the boy. The rumour mill, and really, your interaction with Mr Potter say nothing more that you two are good friends. But then, Mr Potter is a very private person, and I doubt you would advertise your relationship should you have one, so I felt I needed to ask.”

If only for her sanity she wanted to say, but Minerva didn't think it would have been proper.

Hermione cleared her throat a few times before meeting her gaze again. “No, I'm not pursuing Ron anymore. That pretty much crashed and burned the five weeks ago.”

“So, you and Mr Potter then?”

“I, uh… Yes, we… are together now,” Hermione said, fidgeting nervously in her seat. “He only asked last week, of course.”

Now, Minerva was definitely one smug witch.

“I suppose congratulations are in order then. I must say, I am happy for you, both of you.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Minerva leaned back on her seat slightly, smiling a little as she watched the younger witch over the rim of her glasses. “It's good to know you took my advice to heart.”

The alarming rate in which Hermione reddened was enough to spike Minerva's curiosity, but she let it go. Obviously, other than the Yule Ball, the girl had no apparent experience with a boyfriend, so it was only normal for her to blush in embarrassment.

Or so she thought.

After dismissing the girl, Minerva found out why her last comment made her so flustered; she could help the laugher that escaped her.

Because lo and behold, Miss Granger was walking funny.

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fin.

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If you caught any tipo, or mistake, whatever, let me know so I can fix it. This is not betaed.

* These are quotes from Paladeus' fic.

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